Soldier
by beautifulbattlefields
Summary: A young man returns from war and must lead his family out of Manhattan after the island was abandoned by the military because of how rapidly the Green Flu spread. Their last chance at survival is waiting for them at the Harbor, but can they make it in time? He survived war. Can this soldier survive a zombie apocalypse and keep his family safe? Borrows specials from Left 4 Dead 1.
1. Homecoming

I'm not usually the mushy, overly-romantic type, but for her, I'd be anything. She brought out feelings and capabilities in me I never thought possible. The joy on her face that turned her cheeks bright pink; the sparkle in her bright green eyes that shone as brilliantly as a pair of diamonds, and the compassion in her heart that resonated in just about everything she did, all replenished me of the warmth and care I was deprived of all my life. For her, I would be mushy and overly-romantic, because that's what she deserved. She deserved a fairy tale, and that's what she was going to get.

_She was to arrive at Central Park as the sun was setting, with her mother, father, and uncle by her side. Then, after splashing her feet around in the stream a little, she would look to the east, tuck a lock of her curled, sandy blonde hair behind her ear, and see my silhouette in the distance. It would not take long for her to recognize me, but in shock, she would falter. After 2 years of scarce letters, memories, dreams, and countless hidden tears, we would finally see each other again. In a bursting mixture of laughter and tears, she would run with all of her might into my arms, burying her face, now red with emotion, into my chest. There I would hold her tightly, lowering my face to smell her hair once again. How I missed the smell of her strawberry shampoo. My senses will threaten to overwhelm me – the warmth of her skin and the feeling of her fingers clinging to the back of my shirt, the smell of her hair, the sight of her standing in my arms, and the sound of her sobs and laughter ringing in my ears like a songbird – it's almost too much to handle. In the distance I see her family. If all went well, they would be my family in the near future. Her uncle grins from ear-to-ear but takes a moment to admire the other sites around him, never able to attend to one thing for too long. Her mother and father hold one another. Her mother is visibly crying, and based on what I know of him, her father will have a tear in his eye as well. In the perfection of the moment, even though I'd fight them back, I'd feel the warm, salty sting of tears welling up behind my own eyes. After 2 years apart, our life together could finally begin._

That's what should have been happening at this very moment. I try to push the daydream out of my head as I walk down the street, but it keeps replaying itself like a broken record. I have to stay focused. At this point, I don't even know if she is still alive. If she is, maybe she was fortunate enough to be evacuated. Shaking my head, I force that thought out of my mind too. _Stay focused._

Raising my pistol up to my shoulder, I turn the corner and am nearly blinded by sun. It's the only beautiful thing in sight. As my eyes adjust, the last of the sun's evening light reveals an avenue of devastation, reaching past the extent of my vision. If not boarded up, then every other window is broken, and even the boards have desperate cries for help scribbled on them. There is not an upright trash can in sight, and the taxi cabs and cars that usually line the streets so neatly are now scattered, making the street more of a maze than anything else. I have to take a deep breath to keep the horrifying site from overwhelming me. Even after the last 2 years, I had yet to see anything quite like this.

For at least one thing, I find myself thankful. There do not appear to be any of them in sight. The infected, from what I heard, were more savage than any foe I ever faced before. If you were bitten, you would die and become one of them, and even if you were not bitten, a mauling from them would leave you wishing death upon yourself. It is peculiar, however, their absence. In the briefing (they really made it brief, too) they made it sound like they had taken over the entire country, yet here I am discovering one of the most populated cities deserted. My brow furrows in suspicion. It's just too quiet. Navigating through the destruction and the maze of taxi cabs, I close in on my destination. My heart rate quickens, but my legs cannot seem to move any faster for fear of what I might find - that she was now one of them, or missing entirely. I wipe the sweat from my brow as the house comes into view. A taxi had crashed into the small tree near the front door, almost blocking it off entirely. By the looks of things, it had been there for a while. Climbing over the taxi and making my way towards the door, I grow very uncertain of how to go about opening it. I cannot draw attention to myself if any of the infected are nearby or worse, inside, so the doorbell is not an option. That would rule out traditional knocking, too. I conclude that the best way would be to just enter in and prepare myself for anything, or at least try to. I reach for the doorknob but am forced to pull back. My heart sinks as my eyes fall upon the condition of the door.

There are scratch marks, deep ones. The knob itself has been knocked out of place but is still somewhat intact. The infected had already been here. I take hold of the knob but cannot bring myself to turn it just yet. Resting my forehead against the red door, it suddenly becomes difficult for me to catch my breath. I force my mouth shut to keep from gasping, but the weight in my chest grows heavier still. What if she's not in there? What if the woman I love is now one of them - a heartless monster - and now I am charged to put a bullet through her? What if she is in there and she's sick or hurt? My heart threatens to beat its way out of my chest soon. Finally, I turn the knob and force my weight against the door. It moves, but just barely. There is a strong resistance coming from the other side. My eyes go wide. Someone barricaded the door! My heart is now racing with adrenaline and hope instead of fear and dread as it was before, and before I can realize it, I am shoving the door over and over again, each time a little more desperately than the last. Then, as my strength begins to falter, the barricade gives enough for me to peer inside. The house is dark. Except for the mound of chairs and corner tables in front of the door, everything seems to be in order, just how I remembered it. After another shove, I am able to maneuver the left side of my body through the doorway, but my right foot gets snagged. My attempt to pull it free is interrupted.

A familiar "POP" suddenly breaks through the near-silence of the home so loudly that my vision blurs for a moment. The wall beside me tears open; shards of hot wood hit my face, one or two of them trapping themselves in my hair.

"Don't shoot!" I plead, throwing my hands over my head in defense.

"I'll be damned." The shooter responds.

I recognize his voice immediately. Uncle Jesse, even in the most serious of situations, always managed to have a comical undertone in his speech, and right now is no different, even though he was just shooting at me a moment ago. I look up and find him scrambling towards the door. With his help, I manage to squeeze the rest of the way through. After closing the door and reinforcing the barricade, Jesse embraces me like the long-lost nephew he never had. Somehow I had forgotten that I was taller than him. He stumbles over his words.

"It's so good to see you." He says. His hold on me is gaining strength.

"You too, Jesse." I reply, attempting to return the favor, though I've never been one to give hugs.

The man is clearly shaken and disturbed. I can only assume that he's had a run-in or two with the infected, but he's alive. That is what matters most. When he pulls back, I take his skinny shoulders into my hands. With all of the seriousness and concern I can muster, the question escapes my lips:

"Where is Emily?"

Jesse smiles and motions behind himself with his head.

"She's upstairs."


	2. The Moment We Have Waited For

Trying to maintain my composure is more difficult than I anticipated as I march up the staircase with Uncle Jesse following close behind. He confirmed that Emily was safe and healthy, but I had to _see_ her. Butterflies are now fluttering in my stomach, almost painfully. I feel faint as I reach the top of the stairs. The door of her bedroom is opened slightly and I can hear her mother's voice on the other side. Putting my hand on the door, I begin to hear my heart beating in my ears. This is it. This is the moment we have waited 2 long years for. I take a deep breath, hold it in, and push the door open. Emily and her mother look up at me, Emily from the floor and her mother from the bed. Our eyes meet. Her features are immediately overwhelmed in disbelief.

"A- Aaron?" She stammers.

Her soft voice soothes me like a calm wind on a scorching summer's day. She stands up. Her hands begin to shake as they rise to cover her mouth. All of the emotions she had pent up inside begin to escape. The heartache from being apart for so long, the fear of not knowing if I would ever be coming home again, and the terror caused by the last few days here, begin to relinquish their hold on her, making way for the happiness, joy, and peace of mind of my arrival. Her knees appear to weaken as she walks toward me. She begins to sob. I open my arms and gently hold her as she cries into my chest.

"I'm here." I say, resting my chin on top of her head.

The smell of strawberry shampoo invades my nostrils, and that's when I feel the sting of tears welling up behind my eyes. Emily pulls her face away. Her teary, bright green eyes seem to pierce through my soul. A lock of her hair has escaped from her ponytail and now hangs over her face. I push it back behind her ear for her. She inhales, her breath shaking.

"I thought I'd never see you again," She admits, almost shamefully "not after… after…"

Her lower lip quivers. I put my hand over her head and ease her back into my chest. I know what she is trying to say. It hurts my heart to see her so scared.

"Shhh, shhh… I'm here now."

My thumb glides along her spine in an attempt to relax her. It seems to work as I can now feel her muscles contracting and releasing with the movement of my thumb. Her mother now joins us.

"What are you doing here, Aaron?" She seems to struggle to find her words.

"They called us all home to help deal with this."

"But what about the war?"

"It's history now."

Emily breaks away once more with a sad but hopeful smile on her face. My own expression softens. I can tell what she's thinking, but she's too doubtful to say it.

"I'm _home_."

Our smiling lips meet. It is perhaps the best kiss we have ever shared. Her citrus lip gloss has never tasted so good to me than it does right now. Her mother makes her way to the door where Uncle Jesse has been watching, uncharacteristically quiet.

"We'll leave you two alone for now." She says lovingly.

* * *

For the next thirty minutes Emily and I sit on her bed, just talking. I try to keep the conversation as normal as possible to give her a break from the infection. She tells me about her father, that he has been doing well. His job transferred him to the mainland, so for the last year she has not gotten to see him very much, but everyone has been thankful for the new job. Her mother recently became the vice principal of the elementary school she has been teaching at for the past 15 years. If anyone deserved that position, it was her. How passionately she worked with children made me excited to have my own someday. Not much had changed for Uncle Jesse except for his financial situation. He was never able to get back up on his feet after his wife took almost everything he had in the divorce. Having lost his factory job to a heartless machine 6 months ago, along with 70 of his colleagues, he was welcomed into Emily's home. They had hoped that this would be his big break, but so far he has been relatively unlucky.

Emily had just started her job as a nurse when I left. Nursing seemed to be her destiny for as long as I can remember. Medicine has always been an interest of hers, but it is her bedside manner that is unmatched. Just the touch of her hand somehow makes people's biggest fears seem a little bit smaller. She is quite possibly the gentlest person I have ever met. Because of that, she can perform the most painful procedures and it will feel like barely a pinch, or so I have been told.

When the conversation has nowhere else _normal_ to go, Emily's eyes go wide in thought. In her shy nervousness she bites her lower lip; a habit that for whatever reason melts my heart every time. The face she is making right now is one of the most adorable expressions I have ever seen. How I have missed it these past 2 years. I lean in close and peer into her eyes.

"I've missed you." I say, speaking as tenderly as I can.

Now her lower lip is curled upwards. She is fighting back tears once again. She responds by kissing my lips and then resting her head against my shoulder.

"I've missed you too. So much."

We hear footsteps coming up the stairs. At this point, I stand up from the bed and make my way over to the window. Carefully I peer out. It's almost dark, and there is still not any infected in sight, but something else is missing, and it troubles me deeply.

"Dinner is ready downstairs." Her mother announces as she appears in the doorway. "I made it extra special. Since Aaron is home, we finally have a reason to celebrate."

"Mrs. Byers?" I ask, continuing to look out the window.

No matter how many times she tells me to call her Margaret, I cannot bring myself to do it. I look back at her.

"Where is the military?"

With a sigh she looks down at the ground, nodding her head softly. Emily looks down too. Disappointment paints her face. Mrs. Byers then looks back up at me, trying to force a smile to her lips.

"Come down for dinner. I'll explain everything.

* * *

I have not realized how homesick I was until I'm sitting around the kitchen table with Emily, Mrs. Byers, and Uncle Jesse. The light above us is dimmed but still provides us with that warm, cozy feeling. As small as it is, the home-cooked meal is the best thing I have tasted in 2 years. The rice is cooked to perfection; soft and fluffy but still holding its flavor. A small serving of pinto beans decorate our plates, and we are each given a slice of homemade bread with butter. It practically melts in my mouth. Small talk seems to be a thing of the past, as everyone attends quietly to their plates. Finally, I decide to break the silence.

"So where is the military?" I ask again.

Mrs. Byers wipes her face, then becomes completely still. She takes a deep breath in.

"Aaron," she begins, as if to prepare me for something, "we have not seen the military since the infection began."

My throat contracts, forcing me to swallow the food in my mouth before I intended to. My brow furrows in a mixture of confusion and anger. Before I can say anything, Mrs. Byers continues.

"When it began, the local news told us to stay where we were and that military escorts would be on their way soon, but the infection spread through Manhattan far too quickly. Soon after, the local news stations went off the air, so the national news took over, telling us that Manhattan was being overrun, but that the military still had a plan to get survivors out." She pauses when she notices a fearful tone taking over her normally calm voice. "Then the national news went off the air," suddenly she starts to tear up "and we have not heard or seen anything or any_one_ since. We've just been sitting here, _waiting_."

At this point she is almost yelling.

Emily reaches for her mother's hand to soothe her. Uncle Jesse puts a hand on her shoulder and shakes her gently. I am left speechless. My mind races to try to put this information together, but it's as if I've been given the pieces to two different puzzles. Nothing seems to fit. Uncle Jesse chimes in.

"How much food do we have?" He asks.

Mrs. Byers shakes her head and sniffles, regaining her composure.

"Not very much." She replies. "If we really ration it out, we can make it last through Saturday."

That's only 2 days away.

I shake my head in disagreement.

"We can't do that." I protest, trying my best to be sensitive.

Suddenly all eyes are on me. With a sigh, I continue.

"The military is bringing one final ferry to the Harbor. It leaves for the mainland on Saturday night. When they told me, I thought it was because they had gotten everyone out and were just coming back to do one more sweep of the city, but I was wrong."

I make eye contact with everyone at the table to convey my sincerity.

"That's why I came back," sternness now rises in my voice, "to make sure you got out of Manhattan, so that's what I'm going to do. We can't stay here. We have to get to that ferry."

Emily is nodding her head in agreement. Mrs. Byers and Uncle Jesse do not seem as convinced. Uncle Jesse sighs.

"When do we leave?" He asks.

Mrs. Byers turns to her brother, giving him a surprisingly sharp look. Although she is being defiant, deep down I think she knows that I'm right.

"At sunrise." I respond.

Once more, I give them each a stern look.

"I _am_ going to get you out."

Emily offers me a soft smile but says nothing. Uncle Jesse leans back in his chair, rubbing his stomach through his pink button-up shirt. His normal, comical tone returns.

"I believe you, man." He says as he stretches. "It's a good thing I'm a weak-ass shot."

Emily and Mrs. Byers exchange confused looks at one another, then turn back to Jesse, who shrugs sheepishly.

"I may or may not have almost shot his head off when he came in earlier."

A chuckle manages to escape my lips. I nod in agreement as Mrs. Byers begins to fuss at her brother for nearly shooting me. Emily rubs my forearm, just feeling thankful that I'm alive.

* * *

Mrs. Byers and Uncle Jesse agree to take turns keeping watch downstairs so that Emily and I can get some rest. Emily seems to have very little trouble falling asleep. She is now lying on the left side of the bed. Her back is turned to me and her hands are folded neatly underneath her head. She looks like an angel. Meanwhile, I am propped up with my legs crossed and arms folded over my chest. In my mind I am trying to map out the best route to get to the Harbor by Saturday. Based on what I heard at dinner, it sounds like less of the city was evacuated than it was infected. If that is true, then upwards of one million infected are now roaming around out there… somewhere. It still bothers me that I have yet to see any, but at the same time, I am thankful. I look down and to the right. Even though the light is turned off, I can make out a thin, silver picture frame on the white nightstand beside me. The picture inside is the last one taken of us before I left. My head was bowed and recently shaven, and my eyes were closed as Emily kissed my forehead. We actually were not aware of the photo being taken when it happened. Emily had told me that she fell asleep most nights looking at it. I carried a picture of her at all times as well.

Perhaps there is something about the photo that induces sleepiness. As I look at it, my eyelids grow heavier and heavier at a rate that I just cannot fight. The room around me starts to spin. I am in the beginning stages of sleep. The last thing I see is the clock beside the picture. It reads 9:31 pm, and with that, I am lost.

* * *

My eyes shoot open. In the distance I hear an awful sound; a cross between a screech and a howl. The noise itself puts a queasy feeling deep in the pit of my stomach. Sitting up, I reach for my pistol. The noise stirs Emily, who also sits up, rubbing her eyes gently.

"Did you hear it too?" I ask.

She nods her head softly.

"Was it _them_?"

Again she nods, this time I can see the fear in her eyes.

We go downstairs, trying not to make too much noise. Mrs. Byers and Uncle Jesse are already on the alert.

"They're close." Mrs. Byers warns.

"Is there another firearm in the house?" I ask urgently.

Mrs. Byers nods.

"The master bedroom. Look in the nightstand on the right side of the bed."

I hurry up the stairs into the bedroom across from Emily's. Sure enough, there is a second pistol just like mine in the nightstand. The clock on top of it flashes 11:59 pm. A new day is about to begin, and it is not likely to be good. Just as I am beginning to check the pistol, another disturbing sound rings out; this time a familiar voice.

"Aaron!"

It's Emily.

As quickly and quietly as I can, I make my way back downstairs. Everyone is frozen in their stances, their faces growing pale with each passing moment. Approaching rapidly are many other voices. Some hissing, some growling, others screaming. They are coming, and I fear that they might be coming for us.


	3. First Kills

"Jesse, you cover the windows."

I raise both pistols; one toward the front door and the other toward the kitchen. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Emily and Mrs. Byers taking shelter on the stairs. Mrs. Byers is ready to protect her daughter. Uncle Jesse is visibly nervous, but I appreciate his composure. The infected sound closer and more vicious by the second. It is impossible to know from which direction they are approaching. The streetlights outside are now casting their shadows. They are moving incredibly fast. My heart is racing and I feel a drop of sweat trickle down my face as I try to monitor their movements.

Suddenly, we hear scratching. Emily and Mrs. Byers both leap and latch onto each other's arms. A small whimper escapes from Emily, but she quickly silences herself as to not draw attention. I aim both pistols towards the front door, where most of the scratching seems to be coming from. When scratching does not work, the infected resort to banging and pounding. Now the barricade threatens to give way. I tighten my grip on the pistols and readjust my aim. That's when I hear a cry of terror from the stairs.

"Aaron, behind you!" Emily shrieks as Mrs. Byers holds her back from running to my defense.

I turn around and come face-to-face with a monster. Its decaying skin is a horrid shade of bluish-gray and is oozing fluids and biles from just about everywhere. His eyes are white and distant, and yet they hone in on me, ready to kill. I flinch backwards, throwing my foot out in front of me in the process. When it makes contact with the zombie's torso, it makes a squishing, crunching sound that nearly causes me to wretch, but I hold it back. With two shots, one from each pistol, my undead foe is down. Then, there is a loud crash at the front door. The barricade has failed and the door is now ajar. I step forward and shove my left shoulder into the door to close it again, but not before one of the infected manage to reach a clawed hand through. With a sickening snap, its hand it cut free and falls lifelessly to the floor, splattering dark red blood on my army boots. I step back to reassess the barricade, only to find that the door itself is now giving out. Chunks of red wood begin to fall, exposing the zombies and their desperation to get inside. Others are similarly beginning to break through the window nearest to Uncle Jesse, who is now screaming in terror and anger.

Through the new cracks in the door, I am able to shoot an infected, then another, and another. Three of them go down, including the newly amputated one. I am just about to pull the trigger again when I feel something grab my collar and pull me from behind. Turning towards it, I break its grip, then smash my pistol into its distorted face, breaking through skin, skull, and what I can only assume is brain tissue. It takes everything in me to keep myself from gagging. From the next room over, I can hear Uncle Jesse make his first kills through the window. Turning my attention back to the door, I am able to bring two more zombies down. Uncle Jesse shoots another through the window, though wasting a bullet or two in the process. 10 zombies downed in a fight that lasted less than 2 minutes, though it felt much longer. Except for the ringing in our ears, everything is quiet again.

* * *

"Are you sure you're not hurt?" Emily asks for the third, maybe fourth time.

"I'm sure."

We are both standing over the bathroom sink. Emily is helping me scrub the blood, bile, and tissue off of my right hand. It's not coming off easily, but Emily is determined. My stomach is in knots. Inside I can feel it contracting. It's trying to throw up but I refuse to let it. Emily must sense the tension in my hand and wrist, as her scrubbing begins to feel more like a massage. Sure enough, my hand relaxes, and my stomach is feeling a little better too.

"How are _you_?" I ask.

She keeps silent, refusing to answer. There is one thing to know about Emily: She tries too hard to be strong for everyone. She does not like to show it when she's sad, angry, or in this case, scared. Even though she does not verbalize it, I see right through her. I use my free hand to tuck a rogue tag underneath her dark pastel green t-shirt, then gently rub her neck, where I know she carries her tension. Goosebumps appear almost immediately.

"Hey…" I whisper in an attempt to lower her defenses.

She knows what I'm after. I can tell by the look on her face. Just as it appears as though she might bend, Mrs. Byers and Uncle Jesse appear in the doorway.

"You hurt?" Jesse asks, trying to scrub a bit of blood off his pink button-up.

I shake my head in response.

"No, all of this is from them." I say, motioning down to my hand, which is just now starting to look normal again.

Emily is continuing to wash and massage. It sends chills up my arm.

"What's the plan now?" He asks. "I'm not so sure that it's safe to stay here anymore. The back door is gone and the front door is just barely intact."

"The fastest way to the Harbor is through the subway."

Everyone looks at me, seemingly surprised. I can already tell that they do not like the idea.

"It's the fastest way." I repeat myself. "And if we take the streets we'll be out in the open all night, which is the last place we want to be. So I say we try to get to the subway as quickly as we can."

Silence.

"Does anyone have a better idea?"

* * *

Once my arm is cleaned up, we prepare to leave the house. Emily turns her carnation pink backpack into a first aid kit. Mrs. Byers takes some of what little food is left, and Uncle Jesse helps me reload the guns. We have just enough ammunition left to fill each clip. Fortunately, we also find two flashlights that still work. We are ready to leave in less than an hour and make our way out the back door, but Emily turns around.

"Em?" I call out curiously.

Her back is turned to us. She sighs, tucking her arms into the pockets of her sky blue hoodie.

"I'm just taking a moment to say goodbye." She says remorsefully. "I don't suppose that we'll ever be coming back."

She grew up here, so I can imagine why it's so difficult for her to leave, especially under these circumstances. Biting her lower lip, she finally turns and begins to walk back towards us. Quietly we begin our trek to the subway station.


	4. The Subway

The night air is cold, and the emptiness of the city makes it feel even colder. We find ourselves jumping at every little sound, from the wind carrying a page from the newspaper across the street, to our own footsteps from time to time. My heart races through the entire journey. I'm exhausted by time we reach the station. It is perhaps the eeriest sight I've ever seen. Trash cans are overturned. The ticket stations are in ruins, and there are desperate messages spray painted on the wall. There are traces of blood on the walls and the floor. We hear noises as we approach the broken-down escalator; groaning and gasping. I signal for everyone behind me to stop. Pressing my back against the wall, I raise my pistols, and poke my head around the corner. Three zombies are scattered over the escalator. Retreating, I signal for everyone to cover their ears, and with that, I step back, and put a bullet through each zombie. They go down and we proceed. I have to admit that I am beginning to feel a little less confident in my decision to lead everyone here as we step over the three dead zombies. There are bound to be more.

The escalator leads down to the tunnels.

"We need to head north," I say, pointing into one of the tunnels "but would anyone like to take a few minutes to rest? We won't be able to stop once we're in the tunnel."

One by one, everyone begins to nod.

"Ten minutes, but no more."

Mrs. Byers sits alone in a corner. She takes off her purple blazer, folds it neatly, places it behind her head, and then closes her eyes. Uncle Jesse stands close to his sister, observing his surroundings carefully. I stand near the escalator, trying to keep my guard up, but weariness is getting the best of me. Emily shyly approaches. Her arms are wrapped tightly around her small waist. She tries to offer me a smile.

"Why don't you sit down and rest for a minute?" She asks. "You look tired."

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't." I chuckle.

A thought suddenly comes to mind. Brow furrowed, I turn to Emily.

"Where is your father?"

The question seems to take her by surprise as she flinches ever so slightly. Slowly she turns, fixing her gaze on her mother, who is still sitting with her eyes closed.

"He was at work when the infection hit." She begins, now eyeing the ground. "He called and told us that he was safe. That was two weeks ago."

Her gaze returns to her mother.

"Mom's not taking it well. I've heard her crying herself to sleep almost every night since."

There's a slight pause.

"Are you sure you can't sit down, even for just a minute?" Concern radiates in her voice.

Throwing my arm around her shoulder, I land a quick kiss on her head. I try to force the heaviness from my eyes.

"I'm fine. We have to get moving anyway."

* * *

The tunnel is much colder than anticipated. Emily pulls the hood of her sky-blue jacket over her head and wraps her arms around herself for warmth. I want to help keep her warm, but I have to stay in the back of the group. Uncle Jesse is now leading us. The sound of our shoes scraping against the rocks below echoes through the tunnel. I can only hope that we are the only ones around to hear it. The sounds from the tunnel are eerie at best, from random droplets of water splashing nearby, to pipes creaking in the distance.

"This place gives me the creeps." Uncle Jesse whispers. "It's like a horror movie in here."

"I think we're _in_ the horror movie, Jesse." Mrs. Byers scoffs.

"This is a nightmare." Emily adds quietly.

Suddenly, we hear a multitude of little noises. Not savage growls or shrieks as we have come to expect, but tiny little squeals. Then we hear the patter of tiny paws coming from underneath us. We shine the flashlights down to find an army of rats, but they aren't marching… they're fleeing.

"Maybe we should follow them." I say, hesitantly.

"Aaron!" Emily gasps, looking past me.

I turn around and see a handful of the infected racing towards us, crushing some of the rats in the process. There are at least 5 of them. I take a few steps out and kneel down, raising my pistols towards the creatures.

"Jesse, stand watch behind us." I order.

He takes a similar position to mine in the opposite direction, trying to prepare himself for anything. Squinting my eyes, I wait a few more seconds for the zombies to close in, knowing that a wasted bullet now could cost us our lives later. I unleash five bullets, one of which practically tears a zombie's head off. The shots echo through the tunnel as the zombies collapse to the ground. I feel victorious, but only for a moment. We realize that the rats are still running. In fact, they are running even harder now.

Something else is coming.

"Let's get out of here." I say as sternly as I can without inducing panic.

We begin to jog. With as many as there are, we can't avoid stepping on one or two of the rats. We make it a little ways up the tunnel, a few yards at most, and that's when we hear it.

It's not a growl or a hiss, or even a scream. No, it's a full-on roar. The sound stops us all in our tracks. We have never heard anything like it. Whatever _it_ is roars again, already much closer than before, and it is followed by massive footsteps that vibrate through the floor below us. We turn around and look. Racing towards us in blood-thirsty rage is a pinkish mass, bulging with muscles that defy the laws of human anatomy. It has to be five, six, maybe even seven or eight times my size, and I'm not exactly a small man. There is no use in being quiet now.

"Run!" I shout.

We turn around again, this time running at full speed. I glance behind me to see the beast, whatever _it_ is, tearing a large chunk of concrete from the wall. My fears are confirmed when it hurls it right at us. We outrun the mass of concrete but just barely. The force of it hitting the ground is enough to knock us all off of our feet. Shards of concrete and loose rocks are cast up into the air, one of them striking Mrs. Byers in the head, rendering her unconscious. Emily scrambles to her side. Uncle Jesse follows suit. I try to stay focused on the monster which is clearly angered by our presence. I _have_ to keep it away from the others. I get on my feet and run a few steps towards the beast, then I begin to unload all that's left in my pistols. The bullets seem to do very little damage. In fact, it only seems to be getting angrier. It's less than two yards away when I run out of ammunition. Before I know it, I am staring into the face of this massive beast. Everything about it is disproportionate. Its head is far too small for its over-sized body, meanwhile its teeth are too big for its bloodstained mouth. It tears through the railway tracks with each step until it finally comes to a stop… directly in front of me. Its massive arms rise above its head, threatening to crush me. I step backwards to avoid the blow, but the force still manages to knock me down. Jagged pieces of rock and metal are now pressing against my rib cage.

"Aaron!" Emily shrieks.

Uncle Jesse begins to shoot at the monster but to no avail. It fixes its eyes on me and raises its arms again. This time it will not miss.


	5. Strength In Numbers

Not even in the last 2 years have ever I come this close to death. The experience is… bizarre. I always heard that when one is faced with death, their life flashes before their eyes. Instead, what I see is the life ahead of me; the life I haven't lived yet; the life that this beast about to steal.

_I see Emily standing before me on our wedding day. Her white dress glistens in the light of sun as it bursts through the windows of the church building. As our dearest loved ones look on, we share our first kiss as husband and wife. I can taste her citrus lip gloss. Next I see a house. It resembles the house Emily grew up in, probably because it felt more like a home to me than anywhere else ever did. The Carolina blue siding and the scarlet shingles on the roof that match the front door bring a comforting sense of familiarity as we pull the "FOR SALE" sign out of the ground together. This will be our home. Before I know it, I am standing in a dark room with one little table lamp providing a dim light in the corner. The moon shines radiantly through a nearby window, but my eyes are captivated by something even more beautiful. Sleeping peacefully in my arms is a tiny human being - our tiny human being. He has his mother's cute button-nose. Emily is sleeping in the bed beside us. Even after the trauma of birth, she still looks beautiful. Our son yawns. His little breath is one of the sweetest sounds to ever grace my ears. I could stay in this moment forever_… but it appears as though this day will never come.

A monstrous roar wakes me from my daze. Suddenly, I feel the warmth of Emily's arms wrapping around my head. She has dashed to my side and is now trying to protect me with her petite body. Everything that is in me begins to cry out and scream, and yet, not a peep escapes from my mouth. Everything in me wants to push her away. I vowed to protect her, but here she is shielding me. I could never forgive myself if anything happened to her. Yet, despite all of this, I find myself clinging to her so tightly that my fingertips threaten to tear her favorite sky-blue hoodie. As much as I hate the thought, if this is how we are to die, then at least we are together. Just as the monster begins his deadly assault, an explosion rings out through the tunnel, louder than anything we have heard yet. So loud, in fact, that I immediately feel light-headed because of it. A second explosion follows, then another, and then another, tearing the monster's head (and the sound barrier) to shreds. The monster's arms fall to its side as Emily and I watch in amazement and horror. It staggers back a few steps and then falls with so much force that it shakes the ground. A dark, thin frame now stands behind its lifeless body. I am unable to distinguish any features in the darkness of the tunnel. Emily and I pull each other up. I step toward the figure only to find myself staring down the barrel of a loaded shotgun. I raise one hand in surrender, using the other to push Emily behind me.

"Whoa!" I shout, unsure of what exactly is happening.

The weapon that just saved us is now aimed to kill us.

"Who are you?" A masculine voice demands.

The voice is accompanied by a thick Nigerian accent.

"What?"

"Are you one of them?" He barks.

"What do you-"

"One of _them_ - infected! Are you one of them?"

"No! No, I'm not!"

The man goes silent, but his large eyes continue to glare at me and the shotgun remains pointed directly at my face. In an attempt to gain his trust, I place my hand on the gun and gently push it down.

"We're clean." I assure him.

His sharp eyes survey our company. Uncle Jesse is helping Mrs. Byers to her feet. She is awake now, but is clearly disoriented. His gaze softens just a little when he sees Emily hiding behind me. Maybe the look of sheer terror on her face is getting through to him. Finally, after several tense moments, he lowers the gun to his side.

"Follow. _Quickly_."

* * *

Uncle Jesse and Emily support Mrs. Byers as we venture back in the direction from which we came. A patch of her short, dark hair is matted down by her own blood. The stranger who just saved our lives walks ahead at a brisk pace. We find it difficult to keep up with him. He leads us to a hole in the wall, unnoticeable in the dark of the tunnel. There is barely enough room for two people to fit through at once.

"Your guns cannot outmatch the Tank." He says, as if he is trying to scold us. It is difficult to understand him through his accent.

"The what?" Emily asks breathlessly.

"_Tank!" _He reiterates impatiently.

"You mean that big ugly _gargantuan_ thing that just attacked us?" Uncle Jesse asks.

"Yes, the Tank."

"We noticed." I said, referring back to his first comment.

"Are there more of them out there?" Emily asks.

He pauses briefly, then responds quietly.

"Yes."

After walking a short distance we arrive at a door. We enter in behind the stranger cautiously. Once we are inside he blocks the door and turns on a dim light. The room appears as though it had been used as a break room of some sort, and has so far been untouched by the infected. The wall opposite of us is lined with a counter and some cabinets. In the far left corner stands a refrigerator that appears to be running. In the center of the room there is a small card table with two chairs. Emily promptly sits her mother down and begins to attend to her. She looks to be disoriented still, but assures Emily that she is okay. This is when I get the first clear view of our new host.

He is dark-skinned with receding, untamed hair. His face and body are thin, almost to the point of frailty. I can see the outlines of his ribs through the over-sized arm holes of his goldenrod sleeveless shirt.

"Who are you?" He asks again, walking in a half-circle around me as if to show his dominance. "Why did you come?"

I try to respond as gently as I can.

"Lieutenant Aaron Shannon, sir."

"Military?"

I thought that would have been obvious by my army green t-shirt, camouflage pants, and blood-spattered army boots.

"Yes sir. U.S. Army."

His mouth curls upward as if he has just bitten into something he did not like. I try not to take offense. He is probably feeling abandoned by the military at the moment. To be completely honest, I am too.

"Look, I'm not _with_ the military right now. I'm just trying to get my family out of the city. We came through the tunnel because we thought it would be the safest route."

The man finally tears his piercing gaze away from me to observe the others again. Emily seems to be paying no attention to our conversation. Her sole focus right now is on her mother as she works to clean and dress the wound. Uncle Jesse stands nearby, obviously baffled by the man's hostility toward us. He turns back to me. I can tell by the look on his thin face that he is trying to decide whether or not to trust me. Finally, he makes his way to the refrigerator. The inside is empty save for five bottles of water, which he proceeds to hand to us one-by-one. I can't help but to breathe a sigh of relief. His defenses are coming down. When he extends the last bottle to me, I politely refuse.

"It's okay. You keep it."

Everyone looks immediately refreshed as they begin drinking the water. Emily kindly gives me a drink of hers and then turns to the man.

"Thank you," she says ever so innocently, "for the water and for saving us."

It does not surprise me when the man fails to respond. He simply continues to navigate the room as if he is looking for something specific. From one of the drawers he produces a container of shotgun shells, which he then proceeds to load into his weapon. None of us know exactly what to say to the man at this point. We still cannot tell if he considers us to be friends or foes. I decide to take a stab at it.

"You should come with us."

"And go where?" He snaps back.

"The military is-"

"The _military_?" He interrupts. "Where is the military? Do you see the military anywhere, white boy?"

"No, and I understand that-"

"Then what are they going to do for us, huh?"

"They have a ferry waiting at the Harbor. It leaves on Saturday night for the mainland."

"How do you _know_?"

"I was told that-"

"_I_ was told that the military was coming two weeks ago."

"Listen, I'm sorry for the way things have gone down here, but-"

"We cannot trust the military."

"We can't stay here and do nothing either!"

My voice begins to reflect my growing frustration with the man. Finally he seems to take what I am saying into consideration, so I cautiously continue, lowering my voice back down to a normal tone.

"We can't survive in the city much longer. I don't know for sure if the ferry is going to be there, but if it is, then we at least have a chance of surviving on the mainland."

"How?" He asks, pacing back and forth. "How are _we_ supposed to survive just in the city?"

"There is strength in numbers, friend." Uncle Jesse chimes in reassuringly. "You need us, and we'll need you if we run into anymore of those Tanks."

No one laughs at Jesse's attempted humor, but the tension in the room seems to be melting away. I offer Jesse a curt nod of approval. His optimism helps to restore some of the hope I lost back in the tunnel. All eyes are now on the man, who appears to be having an argument with himself inside his head. Suddenly, he turns back to the counter and produces another box of bullets, which I assume are for the pistols. He then opens one of the cabinets and retrieves a fully-loaded sub-machine gun.

"Does this mean you'll come with us?" I ask eagerly.

The man looks at me but says nothing. The absence of argument leads me to believe that the answer is yes.

* * *

We reload the pistols. Jesse keeps his and I relent one of mine to our newest member, who responds in kind by offering me the sub-machine gun, while keeping the shotgun for himself. We also find two crowbars and give one to each of the girls.

"I hope you won't have to use this." I say to Emily as she takes the crowbar from my hand.

She chuckles, pushing a loose strand of her sandy-blonde hair back behind her ear.

"Thank you for protecting me in the tunnel."

Her big, green eyes stare right into mine. She appears to be surprised.

"I could never forgive myself if I let anything happen to you." She says. The tone in her voice is uncharacteristically stern.

Now I chuckle, having had almost the same thought earlier.

Uncle Jesse approaches his sister.

"You got a pretty nice gash in your head there." He jests. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Mrs. Byers responds by whacking him in the arm with her new weapon. In the back of the room stands another door. Although it was never really spoken, I think we all have agreed not to return to the tunnel at this point. Our new member opens the door and motions for us to follow him through it. It leads to a stairwell lit only by faint, blue emergency backup lights. The man takes the lead with myself Emily close behind. Mrs. Byers follows her daughter and Uncle Jesse is last. As we begin trekking up the stairs, I inquire the man.

"We never did get your name."

He fails to respond. Dismayed, I assume that he is just going to ignore the question forever, until at last, in a quiet and pensive tone, he utters:

"Moses."

* * *

**A/N: My original plan was to upload one chapter per week. However, I am now trying to complete the story as quickly as I can, considering that I am starting graduate school in less than a month. So, you might see as many as two chapters being published in a day. **

**I do not own any of the rights to Left 4 Dead. **

**Please leave reviews and tell me how to make the story better. Your reactions will help me know where to take the story next. Thank you for reading.**


	6. Tug-Of-War

The stairs lead us through the inner-workings of the subway system and past various maintenance closets and control rooms. We are moving slowly for Mrs. Byers' sake, as she is still feeling light-headed from her head injury. The stairwell leads us to another station about 3 miles away from where we first entered the tunnel. It's not as much progress as I would have hoped for, but everyone is alive, and for that, I am thankful. Bodies are scattered throughout the terminal. Some of them appear to be dead zombies, others look as though they may have just been unfortunate victims. Through the glass doors we can see that the darkness of the night is giving way. The sun will be rising soon. Also through the doors we see several of the infected wandering around in the streets. We try to conceal ourselves by pressing our backs against a wall, while still keeping an eye on the zombies outside.

"I don't like it." I confess. "Judging by the looks of things, I'd say this area is little more populated."

"What do we do now?" Mrs. Byers asks. "Where do we go?"

I close my eyes and try to remember the layout of the city.

"We have to keep moving north-east." I say.

Cautiously, I lean forward to see more of our surroundings outside. The buildings appear to be larger, indicating that we are on the right track and moving further into the city. Across the street, almost a straight-shot from the station, is an office building with a parking garage attached.

"See that parking garage?" I ask, motioning to it with my head. "I think that's our best bet. If we can get into that office building through the garage-"

"We're going underground? Again?" Mrs. Byers asks.

With a sigh, I glance up at the bandage on her head. A blotch of her blood can still be seen through it. I understand why she's hesitant, and I wish I could offer her an alternative. To be honest, I'm feeling a little guilty about what happened in the tunnel.

"We can't risk being out in the streets, not when it's dark out." I reply. "We can get to the next street through that building."

It's the only idea on the table, so we take it. We venture out into the street as quietly as we can. We know that we cannot go unnoticed forever, but we at least have to try. We can;t even clear the sidewalk before one of the infected notices us, and somehow, as if all of their senses are linked together, the others begin to notice us as well. We make our stand in the middle of the street. Moses, Uncle Jesse, and I form a circle around the girls, armed and ready for a fight with their crowbars. I am the first one to make a kill, which seems to outrage the rest of the zombies, who begin to run at us at full speed. It is clear that we are outnumbered. At least a dozen zombies are closing in, and we can see more of them coming in the distance. Surely our gunfire is drawing them out.

Stepping forward, I try to face the zombies that are approaching from further away while Moses, Uncle Jesse, Mrs. Byers, and Emily take care of the nearby ones. All the while, we try to inch our way closer to the parking garage, but the zombies don't make it easy for us. I turn around just in time to see Emily split a Zombie's head wide open with one swing. As disgusting as it looks, I cannot help but to be impressed. For being so petite, she's got a mean swing.

By the looks of things we now have the upper hand. We are down to just a few stragglers coming in from nearby buildings. But that feeling is quickly dashed to pieces when the screech of a car alarm begins ringing through the night air. It echoes for miles. We all freeze in our positions, crippled by fear. A look of guilt washes over Uncle Jesse's face.

"I'm sorry…" He utters.

That's when we hear it - a distant howl, followed by many, _many_ other voices, hissing and screaming in the night. From both directions of the street we see dozens, no… _hundreds_ of zombies racing toward us, thirsty for blood. _Our_ blood.

"Get to the garage, _now_!" I order.

We dash to the garage as quickly as our legs can possibly carry us. Once inside, I look up and see a large, metal door hanging from the ceiling. "EMERGENCY" is painted on it in red.

"Look for something to lower that door." I say.

"Right here!" Uncle Jesse shouts in excitement.

Uncle Jesse hits a button on the far left wall. Slowly, the large metal door begins making its way down. At this point, it's hard to tell whether or not it will close in time before the hundreds of zombies reach the garage. All we can do is watch, wait, and hope in horror as the savage beasts race toward us.

"Come on…" Uncle Jesse growls, as if to make the door close faster.

The zombies are now less than a football field away and the door is less than halfway closed. Little do we know, something else is threatening us.

Suddenly, the world around me shifts. I fall backwards to the floor, with my shoulders and head smacking the concrete with almost simultaneous, gut-wrenching thuds. The impact forces the pistol out of my hand. Something cold and wet has wrapped itself tightly around my right ankle and is now dragging me towards the door.

"Aaron! NO!" Emily shrieks as she begins to chase after me.

I manage to roll onto my stomach, trying desperately to grab onto anything that could stop me from moving, but nothing is there. I see Emily running as desperately as she can. She begins to reach down for my hands but I am being pulled too quickly for us to grab onto each other. Then she leaps with her arms stretched outward, crashing down to the ground with a small yelp of pain. She manages to grasp my hands, and even though she tries to resist, Emily's petite body is no match for whatever is holding onto my leg. Now we are both being dragged. A fearful whimper rises from her throat. I look behind me. We are quickly advancing toward the door, which is now three-fourths of the way closed. Mrs. Byers now gives chase.

"Jesse, stop the door!" She screams.

"I'm trying but it won't stop!" He says, pounding the button again and again.

Mrs. Byers grabs onto Emily's ankles. Amazingly, we are still moving. Whatever has gotten hold of me is strong. I look back up at Emily and am reminded of the tunnel and how she risked her life to save me from the Tank. I held onto her for dear life then, but this time will be different. I refuse to put her in harm's way again. If this is my fate then so be it, but I cannot let her be dragged out from the safety of the garage. If I do, then it will be the end of us both. Closing my eyes, I resolve myself to my fate and let go of her hands. Emily screams my name and begins to crawl after me, but it is no use. Just when all hope seems lost, Moses appears from the left, grabs one of my hands with both of his, and somehow manages to stay on his feet.

"Hold on!" He shouts.

For being so thin, he proves himself to be a worthy opponent for this thing on my leg. Emily wraps her arms around Moses' waist and begins to pull. Mrs. Byers follows suit, and Uncle Jesse now joins in. It's a full-on tug-of-war for my life now. A growl of pain escapes me as I feel myself being stretched. The strain has made it nearly impossible to breathe. Sucking in as much air as I can, I look behind me again. The door now threatens to crush my ankle. Holding what little air I have left in me and mustering all of the strength I can, I try to bend my right knee. I just have to get it out of the door's way. It starts to bend, but whatever is holding onto my ankle pulls back, painfully forcing my knee back into a locked position and putting more of my leg into the path of the door, which is now mere inches away. With one final growl of determination, my knee bends, pulling whatever is gripping my ankle underneath the door. Within moments it finally closes, cutting through the rope-like thing as easily as a knife glides through butter. Sighs can be heard all around as a wave of relief crashes over us. My head is pounding from the impact earlier and my leg tingles for lack of circulation, but apart from that, I think I'm okay... just out of breath. Pulling myself up onto my hands and knees, I look up at Moses, who is clearly drained.

"Thank you." I say between breaths.

He says nothing, but offers me his hand and helps me to my feet. The pain in my chest almost sends me back down, but I force myself to remain standing. Emily rushes into my arms, trembling.

"Are you okay?" She asks, almost in tears.

"I think so."

Next we hear a deep pounding coming from the other side of the door. Everyone exchanges glances.

"Think they can get through?" Uncle Jesse asks.

"I don't know." I reply. "But I don't want to hang around to find out either."

"What was that _thing_ that grabbed your leg?" Uncle Jesse asks.

"A tongue." Moses replies.

"Come again?" Uncle Jesse retorts.

Moses looks annoyed.

"It's called the Smoker." He begins. "It grabs you with its tongue from afar. It will strangle you if it can."

He turns to me, his dark eyes piercing into my own.

"You were lucky this time, white boy."

He walks away in an almost angry fashion. I still have not gotten used to his apparent disdain of me, but there is no point in being offended by it, so I choose not to. Looking around, I realize that Emily has wandered off.

"Em?" I call out.

I find her standing a few yards away with her back turned to us, facing the darkness of the garage.

"What is it?" Mrs. Byers asks, concerned.

Emily quietly shushes us and continues to look into the darkness.

"Do you hear that?" She asks.

We all shoot confused glances at one another. All we can hear it the commotion from outside, but even that is drowned out by the thickness of the door. Suddenly, Emily begins to walk forward. A sense of urgency has entered her steps.

"Someone's down there. I can hear them crying!"


	7. Castle On A Cloud

Guided by our flashlights, we go down into the garage. Emily is right, someone else is in here, and whoever it is, they're crying. Emily's nursing instincts are obviously kicking in. She is now clutching her carnation pink backpack-turned first-aid kit, ready to use it at a moment's notice. To our surprise, the parking garage is far from empty. The first level is at least half-full of cars, none of which are in good condition. Windows are smashed in, some of the cars have even crashed into each other. One appears as though it might have been on fire at some point.

"You know what all these abandoned cars have me thinking?" I ask to no one in particular.

"That there will be a lot of _them_ in that building." Moses responds, correctly.

I am thankful to know that someone else is thinking the same way as I am. To be honest, I am beginning to doubt my decision to bring everyone here. The crying voice echoes off the walls, making it difficult to decipher where exactly it is coming from. After searching the entire first level, we move down to the second, only to find it in an even worse state than the other.

"I'm not too sure about the office building anymore." I confess.

Moses turns and looks at me sourly but says nothing. I think he might be doubting me too… not that he ever trusted me in the first place. The crying is very close now. Emily navigates her way through the vehicles. I try to catch up, though her urgency makes it difficult. The voice leads us to a dark corner. A black van is smashed against a concrete pillar which is seems to have been crumbling over time as a result. Underneath the van are the disembodied remains of one of the infected. Its mouth hangs wide open, as if it died trying to bite something, or someone. Another car is somehow overturned on the other side of the pillar, making it difficult to squeeze our way through. Climbing over the mangled hood of the van, we see a small, frail figure backed up into the corner. Emily gasps and my eyes widen as we make perhaps the saddest discovery yet in our journey...

… a child.

She can't be more than three years old and looks to be Asian-American. Her hair falls to her chin, and she is wearing a bright yellow dress decorated with baby pink butterflies and trimming. She is without shoes. The girl appears to be dirty and weak, but uninjured. Emily approaches cautiously and bends down to the girl's level.

"Hi, sweetheart." She greets as gently as she can.

The girl is startled. Whimpering, she pushes herself further back into the corner.

"It's okay, it's okay." Emily assures her, forcing a smile to her thin lips. "We're here to help you."

She continues to stare frightfully at Emily, looking as though she might start to cry again.

"My name is Emily." She states, putting a hand on her chest. She then gestures to me. "This is Aaron. What's your name?"

No answer.

Emily sees that the girl is wearing a pink bracelet with four white, square charms, each of which has a black letter on it: N-Y-L-A

"Nyla? Is that your name - Nyla?"

The girl nods, ever so softly.

"Where is your Mommy?" Emily asks.

Nyla shakes her head.

"And your Daddy?"

Again, she shakes her head. I now join Emily on the ground. Children have never been my specialty, but I force as gentle of a tone as I can into my voice.

"Like him?" I ask, pointing to the dead zombie underneath the vehicle.

Nyla nods. Everything about her breaks my heart. By now, the others are standing on the other side of the van watching this unfold. Emily smiles and reaches a hand out to the little girl.

"Come with us," she says, "and we will keep you safe and protect you. Okay?"

She continues to stare cautiously for a few more seconds. In that time I try to imagine what must be going on in her little head. Here I am - a grown man who just days ago was in the middle of a war zone - scared to death and hardly able to comprehend all that is happening around me. And yet here she is. Her mind has not even fully developed, but she is now growing up in this hell on earth. I feel a lump growing in my throat just thinking about it. At last, she places her tiny hand inside Emily's, who carefully picks the girl up, rubbing her back gently. I help the two over the van.

Suddenly, the whole company is startled by a low growling noise echoing through the garage. Emily and Mrs. Byers shield Nyla, while Uncle Jesse, Moses, and I rush to the front of the group. Whatever is out there, it sounds very different from anything we have heard before, and yet, sounds so familiar. Almost like an animal. I raise my pistol, though, admittedly, I am unsure of where to point it. Uncle Jesse, shaking with tension, shines a flashlight straight ahead, revealing a four-legged figure coming slowly toward us. We are all taken aback.

It's a _dog_!

The German Shepherd bears its teeth as it closes in on us.

"Moses, you're the zombie guru. Can dogs be infected?" Uncle Jesse asks.

"I do not know, but I am not taking the chance." Moses replies, raising his pistol to the dog.

My heart leaps in my chest. This is wrong.

"No," I say, pushing Moses' arms down, "I don't think he's infected."

Suddenly, Nyla begins to scramble in Emily's arms, making incoherent noises as she tries to break free. The dog, in return, stops growling, much to our amazement. Emily sets Nyla down, and she proceeds to run up to the dog, wrapping her tiny arms around his muscular neck. The dog turns and nuzzles her, and the most adorable little giggle ensues.

"He's been protecting her!" Mrs. Byers exclaims.

For the first time in hours (though it feels more like days), we all find ourselves smiling at the site of this cute little girl embracing this heroic doc. Well, all of us except for Moses. He fails to smile, but he doesn't look quite as angry as he normally does either. I decide to approach the dog. He reminds me of the ones I saw from time to time overseas. Crouching down, I take hold of the license attached to his green collar: RILEY.

"Hey there, Riley." I greet, reaching up to pet the dog's head.

He looks at me when his name is called and even licks my hand before it reaches his head. I turn around to Moses.

"See? He's a good boy." I jest, knowing that it probably won't be taken as a joke.

* * *

As a group, we decide to rest in the garage for a short while. We each enjoy a slice of Mrs. Byers' homemade bread. Nyla is given two. She has not eaten in days. It's apparent by the way she eats the bread, as though someone might take it from her. This was the last of the bread. It won't be long until we run out of food entirely, so we savor this moment as much as we can. Afterwards, Uncle Jesse and Mrs. Byers lie down near a pillar. Uncle Jesse lets his sister rest her head on his chest. Moses wanders off. I can only hope that he has not gone too far on his own. Meanwhile, I sit against a pillar with Emily resting her head in my lap. Nyla snuggles into Emily's arms with Riley lying by her side. Nyla appears restless; troubled by something. Emily tries to soothe her but to no avail. Suddenly, Nyla reaches up and touches Emily's lips. Emily responds by pretending to nibble on the little girl's fingers, but she pulls her hand away.

"No." She says.

It's the first word we've heard out of her.

"Sing."

Emily is surprised by the request. She looks up at me. I offer her a quick shrug, unsure of what to tell her. Emily sighs and looks back down at Nyla.

"Okay, fine." She chuckles. "Close your eyes."

When Nyla closes her eyes and begins to settle down, Emily clears her throat and begins to sing in her softest tone.

"_There is a castle on a cloud…"_

I immediately recognize her choice of song. A smirk appears on my lips.

"_I like to go there in my sleep  
Aren't any floors for me to sweep  
Not in my castle on a cloud_

_There is a lady all in white;_  
_Holds me and sings a lullaby_  
_She's nice to see and she's soft to touch_  
_She says, 'Nyla, I love you very much…'"_

Her lyric-alteration makes me smile.

"_I know a place where no one's lost  
I know a place where no one cries  
Crying at all is not allowed  
Not in my castle on a cloud."_

The lullaby, as short as it is, seems to do the trick. Nyla has calmed down enough to doze off in Emily's arms. Emily is a natural soprano. Her soft voice soothes my ears and relaxes my mind. The last time I heard her sing was when she had a solo in her church choir. I still remember how beautiful she was, standing on that stage in her white blouse, black skirt, and red, over-sized fashion belt. Her hair was curled and she wore red jewelry to match her belt and shoes. I never quite understood how she sang with so much confidence. She has always been so shy and so quiet, yet when she sings, she does it with such boldness and composure. I often found myself jealous of those qualities. I replayed her rendition of "It Is Well With My Soul" any time I felt that I might be overcome by fear. To say the least, I replayed it _a lot_ in these last 2 years.

Even now her rendition of "Castle On A Cloud" almost soothes me to sleep. Les Misérables was the first musical we ever saw together. In fact, it was our very first date. So much has changed in the last 4 years since then. As I continue to ponder on the past, I unknowingly reach down, take her hand, and begin to play with her left ring finger, or rather, the ring that's on it. Some people disagreed with how I went about it. Even some of the guys in my squadron gave me grief, calling it "unfair" and "selfish" of me. Maybe it was, but it worked.

* * *

_My stomach had been in knots all day. I started to feel downright nauseous when we arrived at the airport, but it wasn't the flight or even the fact that I was about to go overseas for two years that was making me so nervous. We walked into the terminal hand-in-hand. Emily was trying to be strong, but I could see that she was holding back tears. If not for my nervousness, I probably would have been too. Her peach-pink dress swayed back and forth with each step she took. Her sandy-blonde hair was curled to perfection, though she could have been bald and she still would have looked just as perfect to me. American flags were waving all throughout the airport. Hundreds of families crowded the terminal. Most were in tears, bidding goodbye to their loved ones, not knowing if they would ever be coming home. The media had swarmed the place too, trying to catch as many bittersweet moments as they could. It was a big day for the nation and for me. Emily and I arrived at the check-point. Where I was going, she could no longer follow. Taking both of her hands into my own, I turned and faced her._

"_Well, this is it." I sighed, forcing as much of a smile to my lips as I could._

"_That it is." She responded quietly._

_It was unlike Emily to break contact, so it hurt my heart to see her staring at the ground. I leaned down a little, trying to coax her to look up at me._

"_Hey…" I whispered._

_Her lower lip started to quiver. She bit it in an attempt to keep her composure, but she was losing the fight. Now even her chin was beginning to shake. I lifted her chin, yet she still refused to make eye contact. _

"_Emily, it's going to be okay." I tried to assure her._

"_I keep telling myself that," she replied, her tear-filled eyes finally meeting my own, "but right now, it's just really hard to believe it." _

"_Do you trust me?" I asked._

"_What?"_

"_Do you trust me?"_

"_Of course I do."_

_I leaned down even closer, focusing all of the sincerity I could into my gaze._

"_I am going to come back, alive and in one piece." _

_She nodded her head, trying her best to smile. I kissed her on top of her head and took in one more whiff of her strawberry-scented shampoo. My heart began to race. This was it. The time had come._

"_Emily," I began, "these past two years have been the very best years of my life, all thanks to you." My voice was beginning to catch. I could feel my face getting warmer as tears began to well up in my eyes. I tried my best to fight them back. "You've given me so much joy, so much laughter, and so much love and care… I can't even put into words how thankful I am. These next two years are going to be the scariest ever for both of us, but I know that even though we'll be apart, we'll somehow get through them together."_

_She nodded her head, a full smile now gracing her features._

"_And then, after that…"_

_I swallowed heavily._

"_... I'm going to come home and make you my bride."_

_The smile is wiped from Emily's face almost immediately. Her bright green eyes went wide. With nothing to lose, I bent down on one knee._

"_I know that it's a lot to ask of you, but if you would do me this one honor, and swear to me that you'll wait for me," I produce the box from my pocket and open it, " "then I swear that I'll come back and make it up to you. Emily Faith Byers... will you marry me?"_

* * *

Something brings me back into reality. I look down to find Emily smiling. I don't know how long I've been playing with the ring.

"Sorry," I chuckle, "I was just thinking back to that day. I still have a promise to keep."

"You've kept every other promise so far."

"So have you. Thank you for waiting for me, Em."

She responds with a smile, then, biting her lower lip, she turns on her side, adjusting herself to keep Nyla warm. The little girl is now fast asleep. Weariness threatens to overtake me as well. I try to fight it. With Moses missing and everyone else asleep, I am forced to keep watch over my family, which seems to be growing by the hour at this point. Suddenly, my heart feels burdened. Protecting Uncle Jesse, Mrs. Byers, and Emily was proving to be difficult enough. Now also under my care are Moses, Nyla, and Riley. Leaning my head back against the pillar, I suddenly become very anxious. Technically, I have two promises to keep: Get my family out of the city, and then marry Emily.

I begin to wonder if I am even able to keep the first one.

* * *

**A/N: I do not own the rights to Les Misérables.**


	8. Upset Stomach

**A/N: I apologize for any sloppiness in this chapter. I had to wrestle with this one for a while and I am still not convinced that it is very good. The plotting for this one was just really difficult and limited. I promise better chapters in the near future. Thanks for sticking with me.**

* * *

My eyes shoot open. I had dozed off. _Again_. I slap myself mentally. It's impossible to know how long I had been asleep. Too long. That I know for sure. Before I am able to fall asleep again, I see Moses' thin frame approaching in the distance. His walking stirs the rest of the company as his steps echo through the garage. In his normal level of intensity, he comes straight to me.

"We are trapped down here, white boy." He says in a particularly accusatory tone.

"What do you mean?"

"The elevator is broken and the stairwell is locked."

"Wait, you went into the building _by_ _yourself_?" I ask.

Emily has sat up and is now trying to comfort Nyla, who is clearly frightened by Moses' demeanor. I stand, meeting Moses eye-to-eye.

"Moses, you can't be doing that."

"Are you going to stop me?"

He sounds like he's been threatened.

"No," I reply, "but I can't guarantee that I'll be able to get to you in time if something goes wrong either. We _have_ to stay together."

Angered, Moses advances past me, forcing his shoulder into mine as he marches forward. I won't lie, the gesture tests the boundaries of my patience. I have to take a deep breath to keep myself from saying or doing something I would later regret. Moses has already proven himself to be a valuable asset to our group. I can't afford to burn this bridge, but every interaction with him is like walking on eggshells.

"So what you're saying is that we can't get out of the basement." I somehow manage to maintain a calm tone of voice, despite the anger I feel burning deep inside my chest. "Is there a way to get to the other side of the building through the basement?"

Moses is silent. I have come to learn that the absence of argument can be taken as a yes.

"Then we'll just have to go through. Hopefully we can find another way up and out on the other side."

* * *

The basement appears to be mostly storage and utility space, acting as a warehouse more than anything else. Moses is right about the elevator and the stairwell, but it is not necessarily a bad thing. We are locked in the basement, yes, but that means that any zombies upstairs are likewise locked out. Riley sniffs the ground ahead of us as we make our way through the first storage area, but stops short when we reach the door at the end of the room. Suddenly, he begins to growl. Moses and I exchange glances and ready our pistols. Uncle Jesse volunteers to open the door. He counts off hesitantly.

"One… two… three!"

A group of zombies comes barreling through. Emily shields Nyla as the little girl begins to cry. Mrs. Byers steps in front of them, armed with her crowbar. Moses, Jesse, and I begin to unload out pistols into the group. Riley takes one down by biting through its ankle. Somehow we manage to get them all before any of them are able to get to us, but more are coming. Their voices echo through the warehouse.

"Let's go!" I shout, ushering everyone into the corridor.

The corridor is long. The infected give chase as we run, coming from just about every side room we pass. I try to turn around and shoot a few as often as I can, but am forced to stop when my pistol runs out of bullets. Moses is the first to make it to the end of the corridor and into another warehouse-type room. Once everyone is through, he quickly shuts the door. Within seconds we can hear the infected pounding on it from the other side. We reinforce the door with whatever we can find, though it probably will not hold for long against the bloodthirsty desperation of the zombies. Quickly, we make our way into the next corridor, where we make a horrific discovery.

Tucked away in a corner is a horrendously mangled corpse. There is barely any flesh left on it. A thick, sickly green liquid drips from the bones and whatever tissue is left hanging off of them. The smell is nauseating. My stomach begins to churn just from the odor alone.

"This poor fellow was alive when they got to him, I think." Mrs. Byers observes.

"What's this green goop all over him?" Uncle Jesse asks.

Riley won't even go near it.

"Vomit from a Boomer." Moses responds.

All eyes fall on him. He sighs impatiently, as if we should already know what he is talking about.

"I do not know why," he begins, "but the vomit of a Boomer attracts the other zombies. When we find him, the Boomer, stay far, far away from him."

"_When_ we find him?" Emily asks.

"He is still down here."

"Yeah, I don't think this guy died too long ago." I say, observing the condition of the corpse.

Something catches my eye. In his hand is a small, metal cylinder of some sort. Fighting back the urge to gag, I pry it from his lifeless fingers.

"It's a pipe bomb!" I exclaim.

"What good is that?" Uncle Jesse asks.

"The zombies seem to like light and sound." I reply. "We might be able to use this."

Suddenly we hear growling. Wet growling, as if whatever if making the noise is somehow drowning. The growling progressively turns into a groan that sounds almost human. It is difficult to tell where it is coming from as it echoes through the entire corridor. Nyla covers her ears, disturbed by the sound. I turn to Moses, who seems to already know what I am thinking.

"Stay far, _far_ away from him." He says again in a low tone.

"Got it." I reply. "Let's keep moving."

We make our way down the corridor. After turning a corner, we see a room at the end with an EXIT sign over it. Just as we begin to feel a sense of hope that we might make it out of this building after all, we hear the wet growl of the Boomer once again. Before we can even respond, a stream of green bile comes flying from one of the side rooms. Emily yelps from being startled. The vomit misses us by mere inches. When the projectile vomit ends, a giant, bloated beast steps out from the side room. Its face and body are absolutely covered with growths and sores, all oozing with pus. The smell coming from this creature is enough to make my eyes water and my stomach churn. Moses takes the offense, throwing his own body weight into the creature, causing it to stumble back into the room.

"Run!" Moses shouts.

We run to the end of the corridor and into a small room, closing the door behind ourselves. There is nothing more than a table, a couple of chairs, and a light on the ceiling. A second door leads to the stairwell, but it too, is locked.

"What do we do?" Emily asks.

I begin to kick the door. Moses and Uncle Jesse follow suit. Behind us, Riley begins to bark. The Boomer must be closing in.

"On three." I say. "One… two… three!"

Our combined strength bests the door, which swings open with a thud, but before we can get through, we hear the other door burst open as well. The Boomer rushes in, swinging its giant, clawed hands every which way. It lands a solid blow on Moses, throwing him against the wall. The thin-framed man then falls to the floor. He's not unconscious, but the wind is definitely knocked out of him. While Emily and Mrs. Byers shield Nyla in one corner, and Uncle Jesse crouches in another, I try to challenge the massive beast. I wield my sub-machine gun but only for a brief moment. The back of the zombie's hand crashes into my jaw, snapping my head backward and forcing me to the ground. I barely avoid landing on the girls. The lower left side of my face is now throbbing in pain. The blow also caused me to drop the gun, which now lies on the floor behind the Boomer. The ugly beast fixes his eyes on me and the girls. Grabbing its belly, the Boomer begins to make gagging noises. We can literally hear its sickness rising up from its stomach. It opens its mouth and we prepare for the worst, but suddenly, Uncle Jesse stands up in his corner.

"Over here, you fat-ass puke!" He shouts, hurling a piece of debris at the beast.

To our amazement, the zombie actually shifts its attention to Jesse. With a gurgling growl it begins to stagger toward him. Uncle Jesse hesitates for a few moments and then begins to unload his pistol on the bloated fiend. After three or four shots, it erupts with a loud bang, spewing blood, bile, and decayed skin tissue in all directions. Hardly any falls on those of us in the corner. Jesse, however, is covered. He tries to wipe the bile from his eyes but more drips down to cover them. Whether out of panic or pain I am not sure, but he drops his pistol and begins to shriek. Louder than his cries is the hissing and screaming of a fast-approaching horde of zombies. They must be coming for Uncle Jesse now that he is covered in vomit. Moses gets himself to his feet, retrieves his shotgun and aims it down the hall, ready to take on the horde. I, however, have a different plan.

"Moses, you lead the girls out." I order, speaking as calmly as I can. "Jesse and I will catch up."

"What? No, I'm not leaving without you." Emily protests, her voice beginning to shake.

Mrs. Byers' doubtful gaze bounces back between Jesse and me. She looks to be on the verge of tears, not wanting to leave her brother, I'm sure. Sternly I look at both of them, especially Emily.

"I need you to trust me."

For once, Moses is in support. He motions for the girls to follow him as he side-steps toward the door.

"Come." He beckons.

Riley obeys the command and trots to Moses' side. Mrs. Byers hesitantly turns to follow Moses. Emily stares at me wide-eyed, biting her lower lip.

"Trust me, Em." I whisper.

Slowly she nods her head. Tightening her hold on Nyla, she finally turns and follows the rest of the company out the door. Uncle Jesse and I are left alone in the room. The bile is still covering his eyes. He is still panicked but has at least stopped screaming. Unfortunately, what I am about to say will probably just freak him out even more, but it has to be done. Putting my hand on the back of his neck, I gently guide him to the center of the room, directly in front of the hallway. Countless zombie voices are bouncing off the walls. I think I can see their shadows in the distance.

"Don't move." I order as I pick up the sub-machine gun from the floor. "I'm going to use you as bait-"

"What?" He yells.

"- but I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

"I can't see anything!" He complains, furiously wiping his arms across his face.

"That's probably for the better."

From my pocket I retrieve the pipe bomb we discovered earlier. If I am correct, the zombie's attention will be diverted to the light and sound of the bomb and away from Uncle Jesse. We just have to lure them out first. I swallow heavily. I can feel beads of sweat forming on my brow. In one hand I hold the bomb. The sub-machine gun is at the ready in my other as a backup, though I'm hoping to not need it. My sweaty palms force me to tighten my grip on both the bomb and the gun. Finally I can see the zombies approaching from the hallway. Their bloodthirsty rampage is leading them straight to Uncle Jesse, who now appears to be able to see as he looks on in horror.

I activate the bomb. Time seems to slow down. It beeps once as a red light fades on and off again. The infected seem to be moving in slow motion now, as upwards of 50 of them storm down the hall, but more are coming, so I wait.

It beeps and flickers again.

The company of living-dead is now halfway down the hall, but more are turning the corner at the end of it still, so I continue to wait.

It beeps and flickers a third time, but I barely hear it over the sound of my own heartbeat inside my ears.

At last I see no more zombies entering into the hallway. This must be all of them, or at least I hope so. With that, I hurl the pipe bomb as far down into the corridor as I can. It hits the ground, bounces once, and proceeds to roll underneath the feet of the front line of zombies. Relief washes over me when, to my amazement, the zombies turn to chase after the bomb. As its red light pulses through the corridor, the zombies all scramble to attack it. They don't even seem to acknowledge mine or Uncle Jesse's existence anymore.

The bomb erupts into a fiery explosion, practically disintegrating the entire horde. The force of the explosion almost knocks us both to the ground but we manage to keep each other on our feet. The ground shakes as chunks of concrete wall and ceiling being crashing down. Dust and smoke billow into the room.

"Let's get out of here." I say.

We begin making our way out, but I can't help but to turn back and look into the hallway once more. The smoke has cleared and the dust has settled enough for me to see that the broken pieces of wall and ceiling have completely blocked it off. I can feel a smirk of satisfaction run across my lips. After climbing a few flights of stairs, we enter into a room to find that a window has been busted out. The cool, morning air makes its way in. I can only assume that this is where Moses led the rest of the group. Uncle Jesse climbs his way through first. I immediately hear Mrs. Byers' laughter as she runs and embraces her brother.

"I'm so glad you're alright!" She exclaims.

I now make my way through the window. My feet have barely touched the ground when I feel Emily throwing her arms around me, laughing in relief. Even Riley must sense the joy of the moment, as he releases a couple of friendly barks. Nyla responds in kind by resting her head on the dog's back.

"It's raining." I observe with a small chuckle.

"Thank goodness for that," Uncle Jesse says, "because I could use a shower or two."

"More like three or four." Mrs. Byers adds with a laugh, wiping the bile from her brother's face.

It appears to be coming off much more easily in the rain.

Even though it is cloudy and raining, I am abundantly thankful to see that it is finally daylight, but the feeling is short-lived, being quickly replaced by a sense of pressure. It hits me. We have until nightfall to make it to the Harbor. Moses must feel as urgently as I do, as he is scoping the area for the best possible route.

"We have to go." He says.


	9. Dog vs Hunter

The rain is really beating down on us as we make our way toward the train tracks. We are all soaking wet and cold. Emily has wrapped Nyla up in her sky blue hoodie, trying to shield her from the weather as much as possible. I can see that Emily is shivering. My attempts to brace myself against the cold are useless. I try to clench my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering, but it only aggravates the bruise that is now forming underneath my chin. That Boomer packed quite a punch. As if the rain was not enough, a dense fog is rapidly settling in as well.

"Everyone stay close." I say. "Keep your weapons ready."

Moses, unsurprisingly, still manages to keep his distance ahead of us. I can barely see him in the fog. He advances forward until he is lost in the cloud completely.

"Moses!" I call out.

There is no answer.

Suddenly, a desperate shout echoes through the air. It's Moses.

"Moses, where are you?" I call.

"Over here! Look down!" He replies, obviously in distress.

I scan the ground as I continue to walk toward the sound of his voice. Suddenly, the ground in front of my feet disappears. We have arrived at a ledge, and I spot Moses dangling from it by one hand just to my left. I scramble to take hold of his arm. Uncle Jesse appears behind me and helps me to pull Moses to safety.

"You need to quit doing that - walking off by yourself." I warn sternly, once he is on his feet. The rain is so loud that I have to shout to be heard, but I have to wonder if it's my anger that is actually causing me to yell at this point. "Or else-"

"Or else what, white boy?" Moses fires back, stepping mere inches from my face.

"I already told you, one of these times you're going to-"

"Look…" Emily says, just barely loud enough for us to hear.

Her bright green eyes are peering past us over the ledge Moses nearly fell from. Through the fog, we are able to see the train tracks below. A dense smoke rises where two trains had collided with one another. The front ends of each train are destroyed. The cars nearest to the front are overturned. It's like a scene from a movie.

"Alright, I say we head down there and follow the tracks northeast." I exclaim, turning to face the company, trying to talk over the pelting rain. "The next station is a block away from the Harbor. We need to- get down!"

Out of the fog come three of the infected. Emily and Mrs. Byers duck just in time for me to take them out with the sub-machine gun. They both shriek. Nyla begins to wail. Emily desperately tries to shush her as gently as she can. Unfortunately, I can see more zombies running toward us through the fog.

"Run!"

With as much strength as we can muster, we run along the edge of the cliff, but we cannot outrun the zombies for long. More and more of them appear behind us. Uncle Jesse, who is in the lead of the company, suddenly stops, looking down over the cliff. There is a ladder built into the concrete wall.

"Come on!" He beckons as he begins to climb down.

Emily follows Uncle Jesse, somehow managing to climb down while still holding onto Nyla Mrs. Byers and Moses are next. I stay behind, trying to down as many zombies as I can. Meanwhile, the company begins running along the train tracks. It's just me and Riley against the zombies now. Riley barks viciously but fails to distract or scare the mindless beasts rushing towards us. I look down at the ladder and then at Riley. There is no way to get him down.

"Riley, go!" I command, pointing northeast.

To my amazement, the dog seems to understand me. Without hesitating, he turns and begins to run as fast as his four legs can carry him. I leap down onto the ladder, preparing for when the zombies try to follow me, but surprisingly, none of them do. I look back up over the ledge just in time to see Riley's silhouette disappear into the fog. The zombies have decided to chase after him. They too, vanish into the fog. Within moments, I am no longer able to hear their growling or hissing. The last thing I hear is a yelp. I can only assume that it came from Riley. Forcing the worst thought possible from my mind, I begin to descend the ladder. _He'll be alright… I hope. _I chase after my company once I reach the tracks. It doesn't take long before I am able to make out their figures through the fog.

"Hey!" I call out.

We meet in the middle.

"Where's Riley?" Mrs. Byers asks, stroking Nyla's hair. The girl is visibly upset by Riley's absence.

"The infected chased after him." I reply. "I lost sight of him in the fog."

Nyla's thin eyes meet mine. I can see the fear in them.

"He'll be alright." I tell her, trying my best to sound optimistic.

* * *

The rain has reduced to a drizzle but the fog is still dense. The bruise on my jaw is still throbbing. We walk about 3 miles. Only a handful of stray zombies attack from the fog, but they prove to be easy kills. After about another mile or so, the quietness starts to get to me. It's suspicious at best. Too quiet, even. As these speculations race through my head, as if on cue, a threatening sound enters into my ears.

Growling. Nothing quite like anything we have heard yet. The sound seems to be carried through the mist, swirling around us in the wind. The five of us are standing back-to-back, trying to prepare ourselves for anything. Suddenly, a shrilling screech erupts, piercing through the sound barrier like a knife. We all flinch, and before we are able to recover, a hooded figured comes flying from the fog, straight at me. Its cold, clawed hands latch onto my shoulders as it rides me down to the ground. My head crashes down against the bits of wet rock below. Its claws begin to dig into my skin. I feel the warmth of my own blood trickling down my left shoulder as its claws seep deeper and deeper into my flesh. A cry of pain escapes me. I try to move but my hooded foe has me pinned. The shadow of its hood hides its face from me. It raises one of its clawed hands, threatening to deal a deadly blow, but before it has the chance, Moses crashes into it, forcing it off of me and back into the open. I rise to my feet as the creature crouches down, ready to pounce on one of us again. Moses, Uncle Jesse, and I attempt to gun down the zombie, but it evades every shot effortlessly, like a fly evades a swatter. The zombie lands directly in front of me. I aim my sub-machine gun and shoot, but nothing happens. I'm out of ammo. I feel a burning sensation of fear rising from the pit of my stomach as the creature gets ready to pounce. It growls angrily. I brace myself for the worst, but suddenly, a second growl joins the mix, this time a familiar one. The wind sweeps the fog away just enough to reveal a four-legged figure standing tall behind the crouched zombie. Emily, Mrs. Byers, Uncle Jesse, and I all exclaim in relief: "Riley!"

Riley scrapes his claws against the gravel and arches his back, challenging the hooded creature. The zombie responds in kind by unleashing a mind-splitting shriek, and then proceeds to pounce on Riley. Both of them roll backwards into the fog and appear to vanish. We can hear their fight as it unfolds in the distance. I try to follow them into the fog but there are no visible traces from either of them, and the sounds of their attacks keep moving. Finally, I hear a yelp and all goes quiet.

"Riley!" I call.

Silence.

"Riley!" I try again.

Still nothing.

We continue to search but Riley and the hooded zombie are nowhere to be found.

"Aaron!" Emily shouts from my left, her voice beginning to quiver.

I can see her petite frame in the fog. She appears to be shielding Nyla from something. I approach cautiously. Emily's eyes are beginning to tear up. In front of her I can see two figures, one on top of the other. Neither one is moving. Gripping my bleeding shoulder. I slowly make my way over to them. The hooded zombie is on top. Dark blood pours from its neck onto the rocks below. Underneath its lifeless body, I see a paw. Riley's paw. It's wet with his own blood.

"Oh no…" I utter under my breath.

Kneeling down, I glance back at Emily, who closes her eyes tightly and turns her head away. I can see a large tear run down her cheek. Mrs. Byers and Uncle Jesse stand nearby. Uncle Jesse lowers his head, while Mrs. Byers raises a hand to cover her mouth. Moses' eyes are fixed on the pile of bodies. For once, his eyes don't look quite as harsh. Turning back, I try to use my uninjured arm to push the hooded zombie off of Riley's body, but it is too heavy. Moses quietly comes beside me to help. Together we are able to push the zombie off. Then, suddenly…

My face is wetted by warm saliva as the odor of dog breath invades my nostrils. Riley is alive. The whole company rushes over and immediately begins to pet and hug the dog, who is still lying down. His tail wags in excitement. He manages to land a wet dog kiss on Moses' cheek and with that, I see the man smile for the first time.

"You did it, boy." I say, stroking the dog's ear.

"Not without cost." Uncle Jesse adds, motioning to the dog's bloodied paw.

Blood trickles down from the top of his front leg. With a whimper, he begins to lick at it.

"Let's find some cover and get him patched up." I suggest.

"Let's get you _both_ patched up." Mrs. Byers interjects.

In the excitement of the moment I had almost completely forgotten about my shoulder. Blood is still dripping from it. It throbs in immense pain. We make our way over to a nearby train car and sit ourselves down by it.

* * *

It takes everything in me to keep quiet as Emily pours rubbing alcohol into the wound on my shoulder. I wince, and a small groan manages to force its way into my throat. With her free hand, Emily gently massages my neck to sooth me. I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as shivers race down my spine.

"He got you pretty good back there." She says, examining the wound more closely. Her bright green eyes meet mine as a look of concern sweeps across her features. "You weren't bitten, were you?"

Everyone suddenly turns and stares at me. I shake my head.

"No, he didn't get me _that_ good." I reply.

As she finishes up wrapping my shoulder in a cloth bandage, Nyla comes forward, still wearing Emily's sky blue hoodie. She innocently taps on Emily's shoulder and then points over at Riley, who is lying down with his head resting on Mrs. Byers' lap.

"Riley owie?" Nyla asks.

Despite the pain in my arm, I cannot help but to smile.

"Yeah, Riley has an owie." Emily replies, forcing a smile to her thin lips as well. "But it's going to be okay because Nurse Emily is going to fix it all up for him."

Nyla begins to walk toward Riley. Emily gets up to follow, but I reach up and grab her by the hand before she gets too far. She looks down at my, tucking a strand of her wet, sandy-blonde hair behind her ear.

"Thank you, Em." I say, motioning toward my shoulder.

She smiles, shyly biting her lower lip.

"Rest."

With that, she turns and makes her way over to Riley. I close my eyes and lean my head back against the train, trying not to think about how badly my shoulder hurts. I hear the sound of footsteps approaching in the gravel. Opening one eye, I see Moses standing above me.

"Listen," I begin with a sigh, "I'm sorry for yelling at you back there. It wasn't necessary."

"No, I deserved it." He responds, his Nigerian accent sounding especially thick all of a sudden.

I might have hit the floor if I wasn't already sitting. Is Moses finally coming around? Is he softening up? I try not to get too excited. To my surprise, he sits down beside me, resting his elbows on his legs.

"That dog," he says, pointing over at Riley, "showed me what you have been trying to tell me all along. You are right."

He pauses and looks me straight in the eye.

"There is power in numbers."

I smirk, thinking back to when Uncle Jesse used those exact words in the subway.

"He's a good dog." I say with another sigh. "We're blessed to have him. We're blessed to have… everyone."

My eyes begin to scan the company. Mrs. Byers' bandage had fallen off in the rain, exposing her head wound from the subway. Uncle Jesse's pink button-up and jeans still have traces of vomit left over from the Boomer. Riley's front leg is being wrapped up in a bandage, much like my shoulder. Moses has a visible bruise on his collarbone, similar to the one on my lower jaw. Both were given to us by the Boomer. Emily and Nyla are so far unhurt, and we are all wet and cold, but otherwise okay.

"I'm going to be honest with you," I say, suddenly feeling comfortable confiding in the older man, "I'm amazed at how far we've come. And we haven't lost anyone."

"Yet." Moses adds.

It doesn't surprise me. Moses is right. There is still time for something truly tragic to happen in our company. Whatever good feelings I had a moment ago are now gone.

"How long until we reach the Harbor?" Moses asks.

My brow furrows. I had begun to lose track of time and distance in the midst of the chaos.

"I don't know." I reply. "Twenty… thirty more miles maybe?"

The answer concerns Moses.

"Do you really think we can make it?" He asks.

"I hope so." I reply, nodding my head. "Let's get moving again."


	10. The Harbor

"Mom? Can you take Nyla please?" Emily asks.

My ears perk up. Emily sounds out of breath. We have been walking for hours. Night is falling and we are closing in on the Harbor. The train station is a mile away, and the Harbor is only a block further from there. I glance over my shoulder. Emily hands Nyla off to her mother and appears to stumble. Her normally wide and vibrant eyes are just barely opened. Even as the darkness settles in, I can see that her face is growing pale.

"Are you okay?" Mrs. Byers asks.

Closing her eyes and biting her lower lip, Emily nods her head.

"I'm fine." She assures everyone.

She stumbles again. I grab onto her hand and put my arm around her lower back for support. Her head brushes against my shoulder, causing it to start throbbing again. I swallow a yelp of pain, more concerned for Emily than my shoulder. She tries to hold her head up but it winds up falling into my shoulder again. She appears to be fainting.

"Hey guys, wait up." I call out to Moses and Uncle Jesse.

They turn around and Uncle Jesse immediately rushes to his nieces side, grabbing her other hand. Together we sit her down on the ground.

"I'm fine, really." She says weakly.

I can feel heat radiating from her skin. I gently place a hand on her forehead.

"You're warm." I tell her. "You're running a fever."

"Can we just let her rest here for a minute?" Mrs. Byers asks, concerned.

Even Riley approaches to check on Emily, cautiously sniffing her face and giving her a friendly lick.

"We have to keep moving." Moses insists.

"He's right." I say. "We don't have a minute to spare."

Putting one of her arms over our shoulders, Uncle Jesse and I help her back to her feet and resume walking. We try to keep an efficient pace while also being mindful of Emily's condition. Uncle Jesse tries to lift her spirits.

"This isn't gonna be like the time you threw up your Thanksgiving dinner all over me, is it?" He asks jokingly.

"I was five." She retorts breathlessly.

"You've had enough puke on you for one day." Mrs. Byers jests from behind.

"I've had enough for one _lifetime_." He corrects with a chuckle.

Emily fights to keep her eyes open. My mind wanders back to the last time I ever saw her sick. I had just dropped her off at her part-time job. She was still in school and I had not entered into active duty yet. Her parents were out of town and Uncle Jesse had not moved in. About an hour after I dropped her off, I got a phone call from her boss asking me to pick her back up. She broke down in tears the moment she saw me. Something about not feeling well always made her emotional. It broke my heart. We had to pull over twice on the way back to her house for her to throw up on the side of the road. I still remember standing in the rain beside her holding her hair and rubbing her back. At the house, I sat on the couch with her pillow against my leg. There she laid practically motionless for hours. I had to help her up to take sips of water every so often. A few coughing fits and a whimper of misery or two were the only sounds she made. Otherwise, she was completely still and silent, except for her breathing. I felt helpless then, and I feel just as helpless now. Everything in me just wants to make her feel better, but the best thing I can do for her in this moment is to get her safely to the mainland, so I have to keep her walking.

"We're almost there, Em." I try to assure her.

* * *

The sky is completely dark when we arrive to the train station, save for a sliver of the moon and the stars, all of which are welcome sights at this point. We make it onto the street and continue walking. There are signs now pointing us to the Harbor. All we have to do is make it there before any more of the infected find us. My heart begins to race with hope and adrenaline. I can hardly believe it. We are about to escape Manhattan alive. Soon we will be evacuated to the mainland, and everything should be okay after that. Less than a block now separates us from freedom, when suddenly…

… gunshots.

We all freeze, gazing in the direction of the distant explosions. Rounds upon rounds of gunshots echo into the night, followed by frantic screams. My heart is now racing but for different reasons.

"Moses, come with me." I say. "The rest of you stay as close as you can."

Uncle Jesse takes Emily and continues to walk. Meanwhile, Moses and I race toward the commotion, which is now sounding much closer. Moses draws his shotgun as we run uphill. We see lights flickering in the distance. The voices we heard are now audible.

"_Left-front! Cover me!"_

"_Rogers is down! I repeat: Rogers is down!"_

"_We can't hold them much longer!"_

Moses and I make it to the top of the hill. Ahead of us is the Harbor and, as promised, the ferry is waiting, but it is being bombarded by a horde of the infected. We can see a couple of men, about five of them, trying to defend the ferry but to no avail. The infected are swarming the boat. A Boomer spews its inside out at them from the top of the boat. One of the men is being dragged away by a Smoker. Another man is pounced by a hooded zombie, like the one we just fought with on the train tracks. All the while, countless common infected swarm onto the boat. The others catch up to us on top of the hill. All of them gasp in shock of what is unfolding in front of us. Our last chance at survival is being overrun by the infected. I feel anger welling up from the pit of my stomach as I watch the men in uniform, my military brothers, losing their battle against the infected. Before I even realize what I'm doing, I find myself marching down the hill.

"What are you doing?" Moses asks.

"I have to help them."

"You can't!" Moses protests, starting to walk after me.

"I _have_ to try!"

"You _can't_!" Moses insists again.

He grabs onto my good shoulder and spins me around. His dark, angry eyes seem to look right through me.

"If you go down there you will forfeit your life." He says.

"I've never left a man behind." I argue.

At this point, I'm not even thinking about what I'm saying. I just keep thinking back to how many times I turned back to help a fallen brother in the war. The words are just kind of flying from my mouth. It's as though I've lost control. I try to turn down the hill, but Moses stops me again.

"You can't go down there!" He yells.

"I have to help them. I have to try."

"With what?" He asks.

Finally something clicks. I stop talking. Moses continues.

"You are out of ammunition, and I have barely any left. There are five of us and hundreds of them. We don't stand a chance."

As his words sink in, I look back over my shoulder. My comrades in uniform continue to fight the horde, but their demise is inevitable. My heart threatens to beat its way out of my chest. I can hear my pulse in my ears. Everything in me wants to run to them; to help them; to fight through this nightmare with them, but I know that I cannot. Moses is right. The sounds of their screams and gunfire echo in the distance. Emily's weak voice hits my ears.

"Aaron?" She beckons.

I turn and look at her. Tears are welling up in her bright green eyes. My anger and desperation turns to regret. I never meant to scare her, but that is exactly what I just did. I can see it on her face. Likewise, I think she sees the fear on mine as well. It's at this moment I realize that not only am I being tasked to abandon my comrades, but we now have to relent our one chance of making it out of the city to the infected. What hope I had before is now fading, and I don't think I'm the only one. Everyone else has a look of despair on their faces as well. Moses speaks up again.

"Let it go, white boy." He says.

For once "white boy" sounds more like a nickname than an insult. His tone is almost encouraging. With a sigh, I nod my head.

"Alright. Let's go."

With that, we turn and begin making our way back toward the train station. I cannot help but to glance back at the Harbor.

Our one chance of getting out of Manhattan is gone.


	11. Timeout

"So which one was it?" Uncle Jesse asks, as flustered as I've ever heard him. "The Lincoln Tunnel or the Brooklyn Bridge?"

My mind is racing so fast that it is literally causing a headache. I try to massage my temples but it has very little effect. I shake my head.

"I don't remember." I admit with a grimace.

We ventured back to the train station and are now sitting underneath its porch light. Moses is pacing back and forth trying to piece together as much information as he can. He rubs his chin pensively. Mrs. Byers is sitting down with Nyla resting in one arm, and Emily lying her head down on her free shoulder. She is burning up with a fever, and yet she wraps her sky blue hoodie around herself and shakes violently with chills. I think I've heard her cough once or twice now. Riley is lying down in her lap, whimpering off and on because of his injured leg.

"How can you not remember?" Uncle Jesse questions harshly. "How could you possibly forget something like _that_?!"

"Jesse!" Mrs. Byers snaps.

I offer her a curt nod in appreciation of her defense, but Uncle Jesse is not wrong. I should have paid more attention in the briefing, but my mind was so caught up in not knowing whether or not Emily was okay that I couldn't focus as intently as I should have. I try to remain understanding towards Jesse. He's not mad, just panicked. It just needs to get out of his system… I think.

"I'm sorry, Margaret," he snaps right back, "but doesn't it bother you that someone would just forget whether the military was going to destroy the Lincoln Tunnel or the Brooklyn Bridge? It bothers me, especially when our only other way of escape is gone!"

The military had devised a plan to destroy either the Tunnel or the Bridge and keep the other intact so that the infected could not so easily get onto the mainland, and also so that survivors could have at least one way off the island. They told us about it in the briefing. I just can't remember what was said.

"Give him a break." Mrs. Byers replies, trying to speak calmly. "Aaron has gotten us this far. I'm sure it will come to him. Just give it time."

"What time do we have to give it?" Uncle Jesse asks.

"Every second we waste here is one we could have spent getting off the island." Moses chimes in from afar.

"We can't get off the island if we don't know which way to go." I respond.

"Remember yet?" Uncle Jesse asks in an uncharacteristically sharp tone.

"I'm trying." I reply, pressing a fist against my forehead as if it will help somehow.

"Try harder!" He retorts, almost shouting this time.

"Keep your voice down, man." Moses hisses.

I try to intercede. "It's okay, Moses. Don't bother-"

"I'd like to see you keep your voice down," Jesse interrupts, "when I have my foot shoved up your-"

"Enough!" I yell.

To my surprise, there is silence. I take a deep breath and lower my voice, trying my best to remain patient.

"We're all scared and we're all exhausted. Tensions are high right now, I get it. Let's just take five minutes to just think and gather ourselves."

The girls and Riley continue to rest against the station walls. Uncle Jesse wanders a couple yards away as does Moses. I, however, walk quite some distance. It's against my better judgment, I know, but my legs just won't seem to stop. My breathing quickens and my fists clench as I march further and further away. I can feel my face getting warm. My heart begins to pound, my shoulder throbs, and I begin to feel something catch in my throat. It makes swallowing painful. Whatever emotions I've been harboring are beginning to make their way out. The meanest one of all is anger. I am angry at myself. We could have gotten to that ferry before the zombies did. Jesse is right. I should remember which way to go. Moses is right, too. The 5-minute timeout I just ordered could end up killing us all in the end, and yet here I am putting more and more distance between myself and the group. Finally it boils over. Mindlessly, I pick up a large rock with my uninjured arm, and with a growl of frustration, I throw it as hard as I can. Something about hearing and watching it crumble when it reaches the surface again is strangely gratifying, yet it still does very little to soothe me. Suddenly, all of the anger and frustration I felt before gives way. I am exhausted. I find it hard to catch my breath and my knees begin to quiver. Finally, they give out too, and I am left kneeling in the gravel with my head down.

_How am I going to get my family out of here now?_

I see Moses' shadow approaching and hear the sound of the rocks moving beneath his sandals. The thin man is now hovering over me. I wait for him to say something (probably harsh or demeaning), but to my surprise, he says nothing. Finally I sigh.

"Do you have any family, Moses?" I ask between breaths.

He nods.

"A wife and a daughter."

"Where are they?"

"Back home."

His Nigerian accent reminds me that home is elsewhere for him. I pause for a moment to collect my thoughts. Something is pressuring me to confide in this man, despite his tough-as-nails demeanor and often harsh, judgmental words. Something about the look on his face, however, tells me that he might understand what I'm going through.

"Have you ever felt like you let them down?"

The question leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I barely get out the last word before it catches in my throat. I can feel the warm sting of tears welling up behind my eyes but I push them back. Moses proceeds to sit down beside me which only makes my emotions run more rampant. I would almost prefer his usual side over this new, kind one.

"I left my wife and daughter two years ago." He admits.

I look over at him. That's the same amount of time Emily and I had been apart for.

"There was no work. We had barely enough food for the three of us. We were desperate, so when the chance for me to come over here came, I took it." He pauses. "I told them I would be gone for only one year. After that, I was going to return to Nigeria or somehow bring them here to be with me. I haven't made enough money to do either one. Now we are all just as desperate and just as hungry as we used to be; only now it is worse because we are apart."

He looks at the ground and shakes his head. "I never meant for it to be this way."

"When was the last time you talked to them?"

"Six months ago." He says. "They sent me a letter. I meant to send one back, but…"

He pauses, shaking his head again. "I finally wrote one about two weeks ago."

Moses proceeds to reach into the pocket of his cargo shorts and retrieves a wrinkled envelope. I can sense his love and conviction simply by the way his long fingers cling to it. His dark eyes are now looking straight into mine.

"I feel like I have let them down."

I can't help but to nod in agreement. My own emotions seem to be calming down. Having someone else to relate to is somehow relieving. I try to force an optimistic tone into my voice.

"You'll make it up to them." I try to assure him. "When we get out of this, you'll make it up to them."

He simply nods his head, gradually slipping the envelope back into his pocket.

"The Bridge!"

The words escape my mouth so quickly that they even take me by surprise. Moses looks at me, eyebrows raised.

"The military wiped out the Tunnel. We have to take the Bridge."

"Are you sure?" He asks.

I stop and take a deep breath before I answer, just to be certain.

"I'm sure."

* * *

We make our way back to the rest of the company. Uncle Jesse approaches us immediately.

"Listen, man…" he begins sheepishly but sincerely, "I'm really sorry about earlier. I was out of line."

"It's okay, Jesse. I understand." I reply.

"Did you remember?" Mrs. Byers asks expectantly.

"As a matter of fact, I did. We need to head to the Brooklyn Bridge."

"We need supplies." Moses adds.

I had forgotten about that. I am completely out of ammo for both guns, and both Moses and Uncle Jesse have to be running low by now.

"Any ideas?" I ask.

"The hospital." Emily says weakly. "Our security room always has supplies."

Emily has worked at the hospital for about two years now. With no others on the table, it seems like our best option, and it's only a couple blocks away and it's on the way to the Bridge. With tensions between us now melted away, we begin the trek to our new destination:

Mercy Hospital.


	12. AUTHOR'S UPDATE

**Update from the Author:**

**Hi, everyone. Thank you so much for reading "Soldier". I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. I just wanted to give you guys a bit of an update.**

**I start graduate school very soon, so the chapters will be a little more spread out than before. However, I will still finish the story. At this point we are about halfway through. Keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter. It's going to be a game-changer. It's going to be killer, if you will. )**

**In the meantime, it would really be helpful to me as a writer if you would do a quick favor for me. I have really been practicing character development on this story and would love some feedback on how that is going. If you could review or PM me and tell me who your favorite character is and what you know about them, that would be a great help. Then I will know who I need to fine-tune and who is pretty solid as a character.**

**Thanks!**

**- beautifulbattlefields**


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